Ritual
by Maverick88
Summary: Sometimes, talking isn't what it does best. Sam tries a different approach to salvage what he and Andy once had.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Talking isn't what it does best.

**By:** Maverick88

**Disclaimer:** Obviously I don't own Rookie Blue because I did...let's just say different things would have happened ;-)

**Author's Note:** I wanted to have this up before the new episode but because I'll be away till the weekend I uploaded it today. Anyway, this fic is a bit different from my other fics and I took some liberties when it comes to Sam. I guess it's just too much fun playing around, haha. I'm pretty sure this is going to be a two-shot or possibly even more chapters, depending on where my muse wants to take it and how you guys feel about it. Reviews feed the muse so let me know what your thoughts are!

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><p>When Sam was frustrated, his coping strategy was not to go out and drink himself senseless. He wasn't a twenty-something anymore that could inflict that kind of brain damage on himself without having to pay for it tenfold the next day and the whole week that followed.<p>

As he got older he realized how important it was to keep his body in good condition. So he cleaned up his diet and visited the gym 3 times a week, no exceptions. He ran every morning in the early dawn of day when the city was not yet wearing its makeup. When he didn't go to the gym he visited Moshe, a local Israeli Krav Maga instructor who helped him fine-tune his reflexes. This routine usually helped filter any tension that threatened to build up during the week, but this week wasn't usual by any standard.

He hated to admit it, but 15th Division's police work could use some polishing up. Entering buildings without warrants, racing into unknown situations without back up… These things were quickly becoming daily reoccurrences and it worried him. Everyone was getting sloppy and he found himself dragged along in their whirl of emotions and it threw him off his game, allowing him to make the same mistakes he chastised his colleagues for. And Andy…he didn't even want to go there. Their usual ritual of locker room talks had become non-existent and their partnership had regressed to something alien, like strangers working alongside each other instead of _with_ each other.

Sighing deeply, Sam threw his towel and water bottle on the floor, kicked off his shoes and advanced towards the mats in the center of the abandoned exercise room. Outfitted in worn, loose sweatpants and a black T-shirt that had seen better days, Sam started his workout, hoping that at the end he would stop feeling the way his clothes looked.

He ran a few circles first to warm up his core temperature. Next came stretches, loosening up his leg muscles that had become too tight from all the stress he'd dealt with over the past few weeks. His calf muscles protested as he lowered himself into splits that used to come as natural as sitting normally. He wanted to push himself but he knew tearing a hamstring wasn't going to get him anywhere. He continued doing light calisthenics until the muscles in his arms, shoulders and back had been tested and stretched.

He kept going through the motions, doing pushups, sit-ups and various other bodyweight exercises. When he was done, he hopped back up, panting heavily. It had been a while since he really took the time to properly exercise every part of his body instead of blazing through workouts like a firecracker when he was short on time, and lately, this had often been the case.

He didn't know exactly when his world had started to derail, but he was pretty sure it was around the time a certain rookie arrived at the division. After a year, instead of getting better, things had gotten worse. She had a way of getting under his skin and it frustrated him to no end. Sam was used to being in charge of his emotions, even while in relationships. With Andy McNally, he ended up being led by his heart instead of his head. He misjudged her in the Nixon case and as a result she went off half cocked and almost got herself killed in the process. Rolling his shoulders in anger he prepared for his next challenge: acrobatics.

He remembered attempting backflips in the garden when he was 11 and ending up falling flat on his face, only to get back up and do it again because it was one of the few times he caught Sarah truly laughing. He hadn't realized a smile had crept up his face until the memory faded.

Exhaling, he ran up the mat, jumping into a round off backhand spring, followed up 2 more backhand springs until he'd gained enough momentum to launch himself into a backflip. He didn't get the height he wanted, but the technique was still there. There was little use for those 'fly' tricks in the real world but he felt it paid off keeping his tumbling skills, if only for the few precious happy times they'd gotten him with Sarah. The sound of clapping snapped him out of his thoughts and he whirled around, eyes zeroing in on the lone figure that stood in the door opening.

"Impressive, I never knew you could do that." Andy Mcnally was looking at him with a smug smile on her face.

Wiping his face with his towel, he silently wondered how long she'd been standing there without him noticing.

He decided it didn't matter. "What are you doing here?" It came out harsher than he'd intended, but he wasn't in the mood for talk. Hadn't been for a while. He used his teeth to pop the lid off his water bottle and took a big swig out of it while he watched Mcnally's brown eyes grow dark with anger.

"What's with the attitude?" she snapped and Sam rolled his eyes. These days they couldn't have a conversation without having it turn into an argument so he kept quiet. And waited.

"Fine, I came here to see how you were doing," Andy finally admitted, crossing her arms defiantly. She was wearing a fire engine red Nike dri-fit top that hugged her every curve and tight fitting, black yoga pants. "And to work out…on my own," she added hesitantly.

Sam spread his arms as indication of space. "Enough room for the both of us. I won't bother you. I was just finishing up anyway." Again the clipped tone. He didn't know what it was about her that set him off but he couldn't help it.

She gestured at him with one hand. "You call that flippy thing you did 'finishing up'?" Sam softened a bit at her attempt at levity. Maybe this situation between them—whatever it was—could be salvaged after all.

"You know what, why don't you warm up and I'll get started on the boxing bag. I heard you wanted to learn Krav Maga. I could teach you if you'd like."

Her eyes lit up a bit, but her smile was wary.

"Or you could find an instructor nearby. I know a good one," he added quickly. He was too tired to keep analyzing her words, her actions and appropriate reactions to them. He'd tried fixing things. He'd apologized for his screw up at the Nixon case, several times even. He explained his view on the situation at the time, admitted his wrongdoing, but it was never enough. Not to mention Luke had effectively won himself back into her good graces with his knight-in-shining-armor display that day. They weren't officially back together, but Sam could see it happen in the future. The day that happened was the day he'd go back undercover and wouldn't resurface until it all had become one vague distant memory.

"I don't want an instructor, I want you to teach me, Sam. You know what works in the real world." She approached him carefully, as if trying to coax a tiger out of its cage. Suddenly aware of the hostile vibe he was giving off, Sam relaxed his body and lost some of the bull-in-china-shop posturing.

"Fine. But we'll do this my way. No talking. I'll show you how it's done, you follow. When sparring, I won't hold back. If you fall, you get back up and try again. And again. Until you get it right. Anything less is a waste of time. Can you deal with that?"

She kept silent for a while, letting the offer sink in. Then she nodded, her long side swept bangs covering her eyes as she did so. He batted them away with a flick of his hand, not without affection.

"Braid them next time so they won't bother you. Now, let's get started before my tongue shuts down from muscle fatigue."

She nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. It was the smile he fell in love with, the smile that showed the cracks in her carefully composed mask. He watched her put her hair in a messy bun. He stole a glance and caught her rushing through the warm up. Before her sharp eyes would find his, he turned and landed a precisely aimed blow on the boxing bag, causing it swing violently. There was light at the end of the tunnel, though Sam didn't dare to count on it.

Not yet.

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><p>To be continued...<p>

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think of it! Your opinion is highly appreciated!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Title of story: **Ritual

**By: **Maverick88

**Chapter:** 2

**Author's note:**

Quite the coincidence! I wrote this story before seeing the end of 2x08. I've been struggling a bit with where I wanted to take this chapter because of the episode. Anyway, my story is going to divert a little because I started out differently. Hope you don't mind and my apologies for the long wait.

**A/N#2: **

Oh, and if some of you have trouble viewing the episodes because they're not broadcasted in your country (or insert any reason), drop me a pm and I will hook you up!

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><p>Throughout her stretching session Andy couldn't help but steal looks at Sam as he worked the bag. Ofcourse, the only reason she was watching him so intently was to observe his technique. <em>Really.<em>

She noticed that unlike many guys, who seemed to use the punching bag primarily as an outlet for anger and stress, Sam approached it as if it were a real opponent of flesh and blood. A few solid punches were all he needed to get it to move violently back and forth and he reacted accordingly, adapting his footwork and landing blows at strategic places.

He moved methodically, yet with the effortlessness of someone who had done it a thousand times before. Andy remembered the ease at which he'd brought down the Asian guy during their first shift together and bit her lip. She was the one who kept questioning his judgment while he was probably the most capable cop out there.

Andy's eyes kept tracking him while she loosened up her shoulders. After casting some more cautious glances his way she finally sat down for some static stretches, her legs laid out in front of her. She reached to grab her toes and leaned forward, dipping her head to let it rest on her knees. Her calves burned, a clear sign of stiffness. Grimacing, she was quick to straighten her back and bend her knees into a regular, comfortable sitting position. She was about to get up and do some jumping jacks until it occurred to her that from here she had a good view of Sam, allowing her to observe his footwork. Ofcourse there were other things to be seen as well, but-

"I didn't know sitting down was a stretching method, McNally."

Sam's gruff voice cut through her reverie and she scrambled to get up, almost tripping over her own two feet.

"Do you have eyes in the back of your head or something?" she snapped, cheeks reddening as she struggled to compose herself. He grabbed the bag with both arms to halt it and then turned to face her, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Are you done?"

It hadn't been a proper warm-up, her attire could attest to that; there were no sweat marks to be seen. Not that he would care about that. Glancing away to avoid his gaze, she nodded.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Her dark haired partner raised an eyebrow and Andy crossed her arms, annoyed that he was able to see through her yet again. "I just don't sweat a lot, okay?" she bit out, scowling at him. "Some people suffer from Hyperhydrosis and I- I'm like the complete opposite, though I wouldn't know how you'd call that in Latin." She was babbling again, which she always did when she was getting nervous.

Another ghost of a smile presented itself on his face and he nodded curtly. "Well then, let's get started."

Glad that he didn't seem bent on embarrassing her any further, she attempted to get a step ahead of him for once. "Should I get the boxing gloves?" Her torso had already rotated itself towards the storage locker, but his eyes stopped her dead in her tracks. Was it just her or did he look almost insulted?

"Gloves are for losers, just like tape. You get dependent on them. Even Mike Tyson broke a hand in a bar brawl because he was used to protective gear."

"I saw you use them in training," she shot back, pointing at him accusingly.

He shrugged. "When everyone else is wearing gloves they don't like it when you bring your bare hands into the game."

"I'm not used to sparring with my bare hands. What if I hurt you?"

Something she couldn't identify flitted across his face. He looked away, but not before muttering: "That didn't seem to concern you much before." His voice was flat, emotionless. Some vicious thing stirred inside of her, but before she could voice a nasty rebuttal, Sam had invaded her personal space, silencing her with one look.

"Not today. If you don't agree with me, let me know when we spar. If you pay attention, you'll have your shot then."

She didn't realize she'd placed her hand on his chest until he took a step back. Suddenly self-conscious, she looked away before giving him a nod of confirmation. If this was how it was going to be, she would try her best to get that shot.

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At first the training session was painfully silent. Sam hadn't been kidding about the 'no talking' part of their arrangement and Andy had a hard time keeping to it. It had been a while since she and Sam had been comfortable around each other and today was not one of those days.

'_Listen to the sound of silence,'_ her father had said when her mother had just left. She didn't understand what he'd meant by that, still didn't, but it was the first time it occurred to her silence actually did have a sound. The sound of their feet moving along the platform, their breathing patterns subconsciously mimicking each other, friction from where their clothes came in contact with each other and the muffled thud that reverberated from her spine to her head when Sam swiftly swept her legs out from underneath her, effectively causing her to land flat on her back.

With a sigh Andy admitted she went for the takedown too soon. The opening he'd left for her hadn't been a mistake she could exploit; it had been a trap. The only reason she didn't have a headache right now was because he'd held onto her arm when she fell, keeping her head from hitting the ground. He was still holding onto her and she felt oddly touched by that.

"I thought you weren't going to go easy on me," she stated, though it came out sounding as a question. He pulled her up in one quick, fluid motion and she tripped again, surprised by the sudden movement. Sam caught her around the waist with his right arm and she once again found herself dangerously close to him, no witty comment on her lips to protect her.

"You want to spar for real?" Sam asked softly, though he wasn't able to hide the note of surprise in his voice. "You're not ready for that." The rebel in Andy took charge and she clenched her jaw, trying to ignore the sudden feeling of disappointment when he let go of her waist and retreated to a less intimidating proximity. Sam was never one to respect her personal space.

'_Until you suddenly gave him a reason to.' _She blinked, willing the unwanted thoughts to go away.

"I perform well under pressure." She put her hands on her hips, straightening as she did so.

Sam gave a gentle smile that warmed his dark luminous eyes. "I know you do. But it takes a while to acquire these skills, Andy."

"I won't know where I'm at unless you test me. Properly test me."

"Fine, your call."

She'd barely registered the change of tone in his voice and the flattening of his eyes before Sam launched a blistering attack on her so fast it should have been impossible. Andy staggered back, parrying some blows and jumping to dodge others, but her reflexes were no match for his speed and accuracy.

Breathing hard, she frantically tried to think of a strategy. In practice, she'd observed he favored his right side, but now she was forced to realize it had all been an act, to cover up what he was really capable of. _Shit!_

When warding him off with her hands and arms didn't work anymore, she snapped out her leg, going for a classic roundhouse kick. Sam caught her foot with both hands and before she could correct her error he moved, the force of it alone pushing her off balance until there was only air and she landed on her back—again.

She kicked up her legs and arched her back, using her hands to give her that last push that would launch her whole body off the ground. She aimed to hit him in the stomach, but he'd twisted out of the way just in time. Andy growled in frustration and threw a punch at his face, but he dodged quickly, causing her to overbalance.

The second she felt her blow glance off she knew she was screwed. One hand grabbed her right arm and twisted it up behind her back while another hand clamped down on the back of her neck like a vise. The next thing Andy knew she was lying face down on the mat with Sam's knee against her spine. She struggled but it was useless against his iron grip. Finally, she used her free hand to tap the mat in a universal gesture of surrender.

He let go instantly and Andy rolled over on her back in defeat, panting heavily.

"You're…..good," she admitted between breaths, cradling her arm in front of her chest. Sam lowered to his haunches, a worried look on his face—a far cry from the cold, focused stare he had just a few moments earlier.

"No, it's fine. I wasn't prepared, that's all." She waves away his concern with a flick of the hand.

"You did well, Andy."

She snorted in response. She hadn't been able to lay a hand on him. "Yeah right."

"Your biggest problem is that you think too much."

She laughs loudly, not bothering to look up. "That seems to be a reoccurring problem, indeed."

"Not if you keep training, let it settle into your whole system until it becomes a part of you."

"Like that will ever happen." The cynic inside her spoke up again, mostly from shame and disappointment. She'd been out to prove herself and as a result she got sent back with her tail between her legs.

Sam's eyes darkened once again. "You can't expect yourself to transform into a fighting machine in one day, Andy. It takes time. "

"Time I don't have."

"You can make time," he said firmly.

"When?" she challenged, sitting up to face him and crossing her legs.

"We can train here in the early morning, before dawn. Noone will be here to bother us." He sat down next to her, their shoulders brushing.

"Like a weekly ritual?" She was only half joking. Secretly, her mind reveled at the idea, though the notion of getting up at such an ungodly time ruined the excitement somewhat.

"Sure, we lost our old one." _The locker room talks. _Andy swallowed hard. Though she'd lost in every way she could today, she considered this as a victory. But the win seemed stale compared to where they used to be. She nodded at him, unable to meet his eyes.

"Every Monday and Friday at 5 am. Are you up for it?" He extended his hand to her. She took it, letting him hoist her up to standing position. She was able to avoid crashing into him this time.

"Yes, I am. But we'll need big amounts of caffeine if we want to make it through the shift on those days."

He threw her a quick smile. "Can do. I'm buying- this week." She grinned at him and enjoyed the sight of his dimples. Her progress would probably be slow and test her patience to the limit, but Andy knew many small victories could win a battle.

"Sam, are we—are we okay again?" she suddenly asked, inwardly cringing in anticipation of the answer.

"No."

Her face fell and she bit her lip. Maybe she was expecting too much. After all, she was the one who'd treated him like crap over one mistake.

"—but I imagine we will be."

**To be continued…..**

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><p>I promise the next chapter will be up sooner!<strong> Please let me know what you think! <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Ritual

**By:** Maverick88

**Chapter**: 3

**Author's note**: I'm sorry I'm so late! I was ill this week and my head was kinda foggy. I haven't even watched the new episode yet. Anyway, fogginess makes it hard to write. This chapter is a bit on the short side, but I hope you guys like it anyway. Again, sorry for the delay! Reviews are appreciated as always.

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><p>It really didn't matter where she was or how crowded it was, she could always find him in the blurry masses of people. He caught her eye, smiling slightly. She smiled back, holding onto his gaze a bit longer until she heard a familiar set of footsteps approaching.<p>

"So, what's been going on with you two?" Andy turned around. The ever observant Traci Nash raised her well defined eyebrows, obviously hoping for a straight answer. Andy flicked a few cautious glances left and right to make sure no-one was listening in. Last thing she needed was to become the object of gossip again, especially now talk surrounding her break up with Luke had finally started to settle down. She decided the risk wasn't worth taking.

"I don't have time for this, Parade is about to start," she mumbled and found her words met with a disapproving glare from her chocolate skinned friend. "Come on Andy, don't insult my intelligence. Things are different, I can tell."

Andy sighed, busying herself with braiding her hair neatly so it wouldn't look like she was just standing around. "We've been training together, that's what's going on."

"Since when?"

"Couple of weeks ago. I told Oliver I wanted to learn Krav Maga and he said I should ask Sam." She shrugged. It didn't matter that the mind reader had spared her the effort by offering to teach her before she could ask.

"I thought you two weren't on good terms anymore after the Nixon case?"

"We weren't, but that's my fault, not his." She swallowed hard. She hadn't missed a morning of training, working hard to make progress, but also to mend their friendship. Sam was still a strict teacher, but they'd been able to slip in a couple of jokes and she'd seen some of the familiar warmth return in his eyes.

"You mean how you blamed him for it?"

Andy nodded painfully. "Yeah. I was projecting my anger onto him instead of on Luke or myself." It had taken her a while to pinpoint the cause of her actions, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She had a talent for running away from responsibility.

She was so caught up in her thoughts she hadn't seen Traci near.

"How about Sam, is he still angry at you?" Her voice softened in a way Andy had only heard once—when she was talking to Leo about bullies. Traci pressed on Andy's briefly exposed collarbone, resulting in a hiss of pain. "How did you get that bruise?"

Andy took a step back, reclaiming her personal space. Traci in mother-mode was like a bear protecting her cubs: a force to be reckoned with. Andy would have told her to piss off and mind her own business if it weren't for the fact Traci was her best friend and Andy knew she meant well.

"We've been training full contact. Sometimes things get rough. Besides, I bruise easily. At the Academy I permanently sported the 101 Dalmatians look, remember?" She pulled up the neckline of the shirt she was wearing underneath the uniform. She remembered getting that bruise vividly, not because of the pain but because of the look Sam gave her when he realized he'd hurt her. It was like he'd switched gears, going from soldier to concerned partner in a blink of an eye and his worry rimmed gaze had cut through her soul.

Traci nodded absentmindedly. Andy could tell she still wasn't buying it. "Look, Sam is a strong man. I told him not to go easy on me because I won't learn otherwise. He's not hurting me on purpose. But…"

"But what?" Traci's eyes narrowed.

"Well, he sometimes overwhelms me."

"Overwhelms you?" Traci echoed.

"Yes," she snapped. "Sam, when he doesn't hold back, he overwhelms me." She didn't know how to explain the feeling of exhilaration when he came at her and the adrenaline gave her tunnel vision, forcing her to only focus on him.

Traci looked at her oddly, with her head cocked to the side. "You like it." It wasn't a statement, but a realization.

"I-well," she stammered, "He's very powerful."

Traci nodded knowingly. "You need a guy who can go toe to toe with you. Luke was never able to, was he?"

Andy didn't want to think about the implications of Traci's words, but she did recall sparring with Luke once and it turned out to be a lackluster experience. It had been easy for her to floor him and though he'd told her it was because he was holding back she knew she would have been able to take him down even if he hadn't.

"Parade is about to start, why are you two still standing here?" _Speak of the devil. _Andy almost jumped when she heard Sam's deep voice, but she was able to restrain herself just enough to prevent him from noticing it. Traci was conveniently studying the wall as if it was the Mona Lisa itself, so she was left to her own devices.

"I was just talking about a potential new apartment," she said, not daring to look up.

"No need to explain yourself to me McNally. You never felt that was necessary before." The moment she saw the shrewd smirk and the mischievous glint in his eyes she knew she was made. But instead of pressing on, he simply nodded once and turned around to walk into the parade room.

Traci just looked at her wide-eyed. "You are by far the worst liar I've ever met." She pulled Andy along so they'd still be on time. "I can't believe this," she muttered disapprovingly. Not that it mattered. Andy's head was elsewhere during the entire speech.

To be continued…


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